


Breathe [Extended]

by Yeoyou



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, Near Death, Pre-Relationship, Tanker Incident (Metal Gear)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoyou/pseuds/Yeoyou
Summary: The Hudson in front of him is black and empty and roaring.The lights of New York invisible.The signal fire drowned in the rain.Hal clings to the swaying boat, the wet computer, the tired glimmer of hope in his chest. The red dot of the GPS signal paints a path into the darkness.»SNAKE!«Hal doesn’t know how often he yells, how often he screams and roars and defies the wind.»Snake, Snake, please …,« he whispers, on and on. Maybe because the words turn into static in his head and drown everything else out.Maybe because it keeps his teeth from chattering.Maybe because he has forgotten how to pray.
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Breathe [Extended]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoanneDelany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanneDelany/gifts).



> Original Role-Play: JoanneDelany & Yeoyou  
> Translation from German: Yeoyou  
> Edit & Formatting: Yeoyou

**IN**

The catastrophe began quietly; just as all things begin in silence.

Snake had always believed that he would die on a mission, the right kind of death for a man who’d never been more than a weapon. But now, after Alaska, after loneliness, with _Philanthropy_ and responsibility for all the world on his shoulders, there was no longer any place for a hero’s death.

Because he had to go on.

And yet, on this night, Snake longed for nothing more than to give up.

Because even the broadest shoulders can carry only so much pain. 

Ocelot’s cold laughter burns his skin. The ship holds its breath for just a moment. Waits.

Then the air screams.

Then the ground bucks. 

Then everything falls apart.

Gravity and floor no longer align and his head hits the wall. Hard.

_He could die here._

A bad death.

_Don’t._

_Don’t lose consciousness._

_Don’t._

Colour washed away, RAY’s screams in his head. Metal tilting, tipping, trampling against his pulse.

There’s blood at the back of his head, a buzzing behind his eyes.

_No._

_Not now._

A mission like any other. Routine.

Except that Otacon’s sister has provided the tip.

Except that it’s a trap.

»Otacon,« Snake whispers, hoarse. »Otacon, we have a problem.«

Maybe his last words.

RAY cuts a hole into steel and the water comes.

Water. Water everywhere. Ice cold, waves like biting needles. The cold washes the fuzziness from his brain, leaving clarity behind.

The hole his only chance.

A deep breath in, pushing all thoughts out.

In. Out. In.

The next explosion burns silence into his head. The world off-kilter, falling down, his own scream muffled, hollow, the last thing he’ll hear for a long time.

The Hudson river nibbling into his bones with teeth of ice. 

He’s pushed down by the current, deeper into the darkness. Three, four strokes and he grabs for torn steel, cuts his palm, dives through the hole. The ship behind him moans, bucks like a dying whale.

Sinks.

Sinks too fast and spits debris after Snake. Blades of jagged steel cut into his back, his own blood hissing in his ears, his pulse too loud. Somewhere above him the surface. Below only death. 

_Don’t give up. Not now._

There’s blood in his mouth and not enough air and he pushes, forces himself upwards, gets carried to the side instead. Just breathe, just—

_Don’t._

Water in grey and white, static, black dots in-between like warm islands, beckoning.

With his last ounce of strength, Snake breaks the surface, struggles upwards, gasps for air. 

RAY comes up with him, a screaming creature of metal, fingers of light caressing the _Discovery’s_ remains. Maybe they are searching for Snake. Maybe Ocelot believes him dead between all the other soldiers. Pale skeletons imprisoned in flesh and steel, both falling apart rapidly. Or maybe he knows death is waiting for Snake between the waves.

The monster jumps, hangs in the air for a second, and dives, leaving only Death behind. 

Dark clouds, dirty streaks of grey. No sky. No stars. Rain like glass shards on his skin.

His fingers find a piece of hull, metal cutting into them as he pulls himself onto the piece of wreckage, hardly big enough to hold his torso. But he doesn’t have to swim anymore, can press his cheek to steel warmed by fire, can close his eyes for a moment. Just a moment. 

Red water surrounds his head, his hands. Blood in his mouth.

Everything hurts. Muscles scream. World drowns.

Snake hooks his arm through a crack in his makeshift life raft. He won’t stay awake much longer. Pain already bleeding from his consciousness.

Shivering crawls into his limbs as wind and mist dance over the waves. The rain relentless, the river’s hungry waves grasping at his legs.

He tries to draw them closer. Not close enough.

_Shit._

He can only hope that someone finds him.

That Otacon finds him.

Not the police. Not someone who’d think him responsible for the flames, the explosions, for all that death.

It’s a shock, the realisation that he doesn’t want to die. That he wants to be back with Otacon in his tiny London apartment. Wants to provide the nerd with coffee and smoke cigarettes watching the city lights. Wants to get out of the rain, wants to—

He hopes Otacon is safe.

His arms shake so much his teeth chatter, the storm whips rain into his face. He forces his eyes to stay open. The only thing he can still do. 

Even he has thought himself invincible, after all these years with just a few cuts and bruises, a few bullet wounds, after fighting his nightmares and the world.

The fog crawling in and the distant growls of thunder, storm in his hair and heart in his throat, Snake knows it’s a lie.

The Hudson tastes stale as a last breath, the waves like blood.

So cold. If it just wasn’t so cold. 

Minutes like hours and the rain’s tapping like steps that never arrive.

There have always been stars in Alaska. 

Snake knows he can’t give up.

Snake knows it’s the end.

»Hal,« he whispers because there isn’t enough breath for »Otacon.«

The catastrophe ends quietly; just as all things end in silence.

* * *

**OUT**

_Otacon. Otacon, we have a problem._

Cold seeps through Hal’s headphones, pressed so hard against his head it hurts.

But Snake keeps silent.

And then he hears it. Not via headphone. Not Snake.

Hal’s head whips around as the waves of a distant explosion surge against the old Sprinter.

_Shit_.

»Snake? _Snaaaake_!«

But everything stays silent while Hal stares towards the back of the car with eyes wide, heart outside, somewhere on the waves of the Hudson.

A quick glance at his partner’s vital signs confirms that the soldier is still alive. For now.

Hal grabs the laptop with Snake’s GPS and stumbles out of the car.

Another explosion lights the darkness for a moment and he ducks instinctively.

_Stupid._

He’s too far away. Too far.

Hal stumbles through the rain, slips in the mud, falls, gets back on his feet, cursing, calling for a man who cannot hear him.

The rain almost blinds him but he still sees the third explosion lighting the way, a signal fire for the dying, and he forces his legs to move faster, one arm in front of his face, the other pressing the laptop against his chest.

Gravel under his shoes turns to wood of the small dock, and he almost stumbles again. 

He takes too long to find the boat. They didn’t think they’d need it. Just a cautionary provision for emergencies at the far end of the alphabet.

Finally, the orange of the _Zodiac_ , washed out in the storm.

He fumbles with the knot, laptop falling to the wet ground.

_Fuck!_

Loosened at last, and ready to be lost at sea. A fight with the motor—too long, he’s taking too long—and away he goes.

The Hudson in front of him is black and empty and roaring.

The lights of New York invisible.

The signal fire drowned in the rain.

Hal clings to the swaying boat, the wet computer, the tired glimmer of hope in his chest. The red dot of the GPS signal paints a path into the darkness.

Sharp pieces of the _Discovery_ bump against his boat the closer he gets, threatening to slit the rubber open and yet he has to steer right into the field of debris and death.

»SNAKE!«

Hal doesn’t know how often he yells, how often he screams and roars and defies the wind.

»Snake, Snake, please …,« he whispers, on and on. Maybe because the words turn into static in his head and drown everything else out.

Maybe because it keeps his teeth from chattering.

Maybe because he has forgotten how to pray. 

A head bops up over the waves, the body attached lifeless as a ragdoll but he still has to check. Even though the hair is too light, the body too small.

Somebody could still be alive.

Somebody _is_ still alive.

He fights to get the female soldier aboard, her hair looks like spilled silver in the flashes of lightning. She reminds him of someone, she reminds him of—

He has no time.

The coast guard is already swarming on the accident site. It’s easy to forget New York is just a few miles away when all you see is darkness and death.

He has no time to take care of the woman and save Snake and he has to find him before anyone else does because _if he doesn’t_ is something he doesn’t even want to think about although it’s maybe, definitely better than thinking about not finding him or finding him too late because he simply can’t think about that so he won’t and—

_Focus, Emmerich!_

Hal steers towards the nearest coast guard boat, hand raised to protect himself from the powerful search beams.

»I found someone. She’s still alive,« he hollers at the shadowy figure he can discern on the deck. »I heard the explosion and came out to help.«

Not her, not them, but he cannot say that.

A strange dance ensues with two wet figures on two swaying boats in the darkness and the almost lifeless form they try to get from one to the other.

»Thanks for your help,« the coast guard yells through the storm, »but we’ve got this. More support is on the way. You’d better get back or we’ll have to fish you out, too.«

Hal yells his agreement and waves, watching the boat turn before steering his own in the opposite direction.

_Focus, Emmerich._

He grabs for the laptop only to realise it’s given up in the face of too much water and rain. Now it’s just a useless piece of plastic, sheltering dead electronics. And somewhere, lost between circuits, Snake’s GPS signal.

Panic surges with the waves. Alone. Just him and this boat and no technology to help him.

»Please …« No more than a whisper in the inferno, the desperate plea of a desperate man in a small boat, caught in the storm.

»Please …«

_»You think it’s a trap? To lure us out here …?«_

_»I don’t know._

_»Watch your back, Snake. Maybe I screwed up.«_

»Hal.«

»I’m sorry, Snake. I’m so sorry.«

_Hal._

Three letters, softer than Hal’s own whispering.

Not imagined.

Real.

Hal’s head comes up fast, his eyes searching, his heart hoping, hammering in his chest.

»SNAKE! You hold the fuck out, all right? You will not give up, Snake! You hear me? Don’t you _dare_ give up, Snake! I’ll only play anime music at your funeral! The ones you really, _really_ hate, Snake! You’re Solid FUCKING Snake and you won’t give up!«

Hal doesn’t know whether he’s talking to Snake or to himself, too. But fact is: he hasn’t given up. He won’t give up. It’s Snake and he needs Hal and Hal will be there to save his fucking ass or be damned.

He finds too many dead bodies.

But minutes, or hours, or lives later, he sees a body he knows. That he would always know.

Sees light grey on the dark waves and it almost tears him apart. Because he’s found him. Because he doesn’t know if he’s still alive.

»Please,« he whispers again and again as he nears the figure.

»SNAKE!«

No reaction.

»Fuck, _please_ , Snake, please tell me you didn’t give up.«

Snake’s skin is too cold.

»Please. No, please, Snake. Please«

* * *

**IN**

First: Get Snake into the boat.

Second: _Then_ worry about his condition.

Third: Get the hell out of here.

Fourth: Get to safety.

Fifth: Break down.

In that order.

The sneaking suit is a problem. The smooth surface has been designed so that enemies can’t easily grab and hold onto Snake. It works. Too well. The snake has become a slippery eel and the wet fabric and Hal’s numb fingers aren’t making things any easier. Or the fact that Snake seems to weigh a ton. A ton of muscles that _don’t move_.

_Focus, Emmerich!_

Hal finally grabs onto two straps, hooks his unwilling fingers behind them. And pulls.

His muscles scream and he does too. Every bone, every fibre and nerve in his body protests against the weight he tries to heave into the boat but he cannot stop, can’t let go, even though his head swims and rain whips down on everything. He grits his teeth, pulls. Pulls, pulls until Snake’s body slides off the floating chunk of metal and lies half on the boat’s side and half in the hungry river.

Hal has no breath left to swear. Not even silently.

He almost falls, he almost loses, almost, but then Snake’s in the boat and Hal stumbles against the rudder, the boat lurches and they do too, but Snake’s here, he’s here, he’s found him.

The soldier is almost too long for the small boat, there’s almost no room left for Hal to kneel by his side, eyes rain blind, tear blind, his hands reaching for his partner’s face.

Pale, cold, eyes closed and lips blue.

»Fuck, Snake, please …«

He leans down, holds his ear close to those lips and closes his own eyes, tries to blend out everything, the storm, the debris, the coast guard, the dead bodies.

He almost doesn’t feel the weak hint of breath on his cold skin, but there it is, and he hiccups in relief, can’t let go, holds him, just for a moment. Waits and doesn’t know for what.

And then he hears it, Snake’s voice, barely more than a whisper.

»You … late«

»Kept you waiting, huh?« Hal’s voice is quiet and much too soft. His thoughts scream and are much too loud.

»It’s okay, Snake. You’re safe now.«

A lie.

»I found you.«

The truth.

»Snake?«

Silently, the storm rages on.

»Snake!«

He leans down again, closer, waits for that puff of breath. Waits in vain.

»Snake! No! Fuck, SNAKE!«

Panic claws into every pore.

_You’re too late._

»Not again. Please, please not again. Not Snake. Not … not Snake.«

He grabs the soldier’s head with shaking hands, forces it back, mouth open, holds his nose close.

Breathes in.

Snake’s lips taste of salt and blood. Taste of ice.

He rips open Snake’s belt and shoulder straps, tears the zipper down. No time to look for wounds, no time for too much ghostly pale skin.

He finds the spot, interlaces his fingers and presses his stiff arms down with his own body weight. 

Thirty times cursing. Thirty times praying. Thirty times Snake’s name in his thoughts.

He covers Snake’s mouth again, ignores the stubble, breathes for him and hopes Snake will fight for him. Fight for him one last time.

It’s the first time Hal really fights for Snake.

Breathe.

Push.

Breathe.

Push.

Thirty times praying and pleading and fighting.

Till his arms shake.

Till his hope shakes.

Till his heart shakes.

Hal doesn’t listen to himself anymore, knows, vaguely, that he still curses and threatens and begs.

»Anime music, Snake! You hear me? Anime music!«

»Dammit, Snake, you stubborn bastard, _now’s_ the time to be stubborn!«

»Please, Snake, please don’t leave me alone.«

»I need you, Snake. I can’t do this on my own.«

»Please come back.«

»Please.«

* * *

**OUT**

The night is cold.

But Death reaches for him with warm fingers.

Rain pounds the breath out of Snake’s chest. No energy to gasp for air. He can only wait. Wait and die. Struggling futile, all out of ammo.

Hal.

It’s Hal. 

He’s found him.

Relief floods him, chases the cold and darkness. Now he can give up. Now he can rest because his partner’s here to save him.

The world is broken and he just needs a break.

But something holds him back. 

Desperation in his ears, a weight against his ribs, Alaska in his head. Alaska and ice. Lips against his. Cold and made from molten snow.

Hal. Hal. It’s okay. Let me go. Let me—

_I need you, Snake. I can’t do this on my own._

_Please come back. Please._

His first breath hurts, because it tastes of loss and cold. Because it burns and stings and rips all silence, all stillness out of Snake’s body. Water in his lungs, fighting its way out, a hand gripping Otacon’s sweater, blood on wet fabric.

He mustn’t give up. 

Because the world needs him.

Because Otacon screams his name.

The storm returns with vengeance. A boat under him. Debris around them. Otacon’s blurred face above him. A voice from afar, through old rain and new pain. Nearly inaudible against the buzzing in his ears, against his own breath, halting, loud as a thousand storms.

He’d stopped believing that someone would find him, drifting on the Hudson, no idea for how long. Minutes, or hours. Consciousness a light switch. On. Off. On.

A sound, half protest, half moan crawls over his lips, is swallowed by the noise. He orders his muscles to move, each and every one of them. None, none obey him. Maybe it really is the end.

_I don’t want to die._

He doesn’t want to, he wants to. Stay. Go. Stay. Die.

On.

Off.

In. 

Out.

_Out._

* * *

**IN**

Hal holds Snake’s face between wet fingers, holds his head as Snake coughs up Hudson water. He can’t seem to stop holding him. Doesn’t want to.

He closes his eyes for a short, egoistic moment, laughs soundlessly while tears mingle with the rain on his skin.

»Fuck, Snake. Fuck. I … oh God, I thought …,« he presses his lips together. Wet lips that have touched Snake’s skin, Snake’s mouth. Hysteria sits in his throat, but he shakes his head instead and tries to right his glasses.

Futile. Futile, he can’t see a thing. Rain blind. Tear blind.

But he can feel it. Him. The heart that beats, the lungs that breathe.

»Everything will be okay.«

A lie. One he needs to tell himself. One he cannot believe but does in this moment, no longer alone.

He’s dimly aware that his fingers grip Snake’s shoulder too hard, desperate to feel him through the numbness. He wonders if Snake can feel it at all.

»Just rest. I’ll get us out of here, okay?«

Snake nods, closes his eyes. And hysteria turns into fear. But he has to trust Snake, has to trust that he keeps breathing while he steers the boat back to the shore. 

»It’s going to be okay,« he whispers. »It’s going to be okay.«

The rain is less furious now. They’ll make it. 

They have to.

* * *

**OUT**

The infant day demands too many miracles.

Getting back on land is easy compared to what comes after, and easy already seems fucking impossible.

Hal has no idea how long it takes him to find the little dock where he left the car. The black coastline looks all the same and no matter how much he curses, how much he’s aware that maybe both of theirs and definitely Snake’s life ride on him finding the right spot quickly, quickly doesn’t happen. Not before the rain lessens and the first streaks of muted silver announce a new dawn does he finally find the dock. Finally manages to get the boat in position, get it moored, cuts off the engine, too loud now the storm has abated. Finally can kneel down next to Snake again.

Still alive.

Barely conscious.

But it doesn’t matter because Hal can’t do this alone, needs his partner to take at least some of his own weight.

Every step a struggle. From the unstable boat to the slippery dock, up the gravel path, nearly falling. Hal’s pretty sure he’s strained something in his shoulder, catching Snake’s body . The walk to the car the longest he’s ever walked, the muddy ground calling to them with every step. 

They wouldn’t get up again. 

Would drown in rain and mud

There is no space in Hal’s head for fear or guilt or desperation. His only focus the thought that they have to get back to the car. That they need to get away. His field of vision narrowed down to one single point, the rusted Sprinter at the side of the road. The only relevant coordinate. Everything else is lost in darkness and white static.

He hardly knows why they need to get to the car.

He hardly knows how they make it to the car.

But they do. Another miracle paid in tribute to gods that do not care.

The back doors are still open, rain and wind threw a party inside. But at least he can drag Snake in without any further obstacles like doors or locks.

He finds something to shove under Snake’s head, tries to ignore the pale skin, too much exposed by the half open sneaking suit, covers it quickly with some semi-dry towels. Rests his hand for a moment on Snake’s shoulder and whispers: »Everything is going to be alright. I’ll get us out of here. Hang in there, okay?«

The sky is much too bright, dawn quickly making way to morning and they’ve wasted too much time.

Driving back to their safe house, drenched and shivering and unable to shake the thought of Snake’s body in the back of the car, Hal clings to his own words. 

_Everything is going to be alright._

* * *

**IN**

The shivering starts again, some time after Otacon closes the door, some time after the rumbling of the engine starts to vibrate in every bone. Snake tries to roll into a ball, the taste of his own blood on his lips, hands close by his mouth.

Breath on skin.

Otacon.

Otacon saved him. His breath had tasted of fear. Of tears. An echo on the back of Snake’s tongue, the last ember of warmth and his whole being clings to it.

He hopes it will be enough to keep him warm. To keep him safe. To keep him.

Because he’s too tired to struggle.

So he loses himself, trusts in the tether, trusts in the nerd.

When the rumbling has finally stopped, when Otacon tears the doors open and calls his name with too much fear in his voice, Snake doesn’t want to come back.

There’s rain on his face. Wind. Life.

»Hey.« Otacon crouches next to him. He still looks half-drowned, shadows nestling under his eyes, crowding behind his glasses. His voice is hoarse and strangely soft.

»We’re almost there. We just need to get you back into the house, then you can rest.«

Skinny arms in wet sweater sleeves fight their way under his shoulders, tug at him.

He just wants to sleep. Knows he’ll have to fight one last time, has to help his nerd.

He clings to that knowledge. He clings to the nerd.

Legs like Otacon’s favourite ramen noodles, chill in every bone, and not enough strength in either of them.

The path to the house is endless. A miracle cashed in with every step.

»Just a little bit further. We’re almost there.«

Words like static in his head. Like rain. Words that carry him. Words he can follow.

He mustn’t give up. Not yet. Not.

_»Don’t give up, soldier!«_

Memories wash over him, take him away, voices in his head. They’re all dead now. The voices and the bodies and the memories. 

The longest walk. Longer than Zanzibar. Longer than tracks in the snow, the smell of Husky fur in his nose and a sled running under him into pale sunsets.

Snake hardly notices them finally entering the house, how the rain stops and the wind howls because it’s left outside. How everything quiets down. 

The soft mattress under him feels wrong, from a different life, a different story.

He needs to remember how to breathe.

In. 

Out.

In.

* * *

**OUT**

They’ve made it but panic crawls with spider legs through Hal’s throat. He just manages to mumble a few words. 

_I’ll be back. I’ll only be a moment._

He just manages to stumble to the bathroom. Back pressed to cold tiles, more falling than gliding down to the floor. His lungs screaming for air he can’t gulp in fast enough, hands clawing at the wall, the floor, the dingy shower mat. 

He looked so helpless. He’s never seen Snake like that and the storm is still in his head, still in his heart, raging and tearing and—

»Oh God …«

He wants to scrape himself out of this skin but he can’t. Can’t be anyone but himself. Doesn’t have time to dissolve.

Snake doesn’t have time.

And yet he doesn’t move.

Fears his spine will break out of his skin if he no longer presses his back against the wall.

His cells scream.

Panic prickling under his fingernails, behind his ears, in his eyes, crawling, crawling everywhere and he can’t—

Breathe.

He needs to remember how to breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Hal forces air into his lungs, squeezes his eyes shut and murmurs decimals of Pi until his heart stops beating in the rhythm of the storm, until his every breath isn’t a fight.

He reaches for the first aid kit, shoves his glasses up and grabs all the towels he can find.

He has to support himself on the wall on his way back to Snake, but he’s walking. He knows what he has to do. Postpones the break down. No time to stumble now.

Because Snake needs him.

* * *

**IN**

Snake.

Snake isn’t breathing.

Skin cold. Not moving. He isn’t _breathing_.

Towels tumble to the floor, the first aid kit obscenely loud as it lands next to the fallen soldier and Hal is on his knees.

Doesn’t think.

Doesn’t want to be.

Pure instinct taking control. Dictates the movements he has learned, has practiced again and again so he would never ever forget them again.

It doesn’t matter that he can hardly see. Glasses still blind with rain, eyes blind with tears.

He rolls Snake onto his back, forces his head back, chin down, holds his nose close.

Déja-vu.

Déja-fais.

Breathe twice.

Push down on his chest, hard. Thirty times.

Repeat.

Breathe.

Push.

Repeat.

— _call an ambulance_ —

— _alternate with other people if you can to save energy_ —

— _wait for help to arrive_ —

Nobody will come. Nobody. 

He’s alone.

Alone and—

Hal sobs. Or maybe it’s a scream, broken down from lack of oxygen.

Breathe twice.

Push down thirty times.

— _Push at least 100 times per minute_ —

His arms shake.

His breath shakes.

His soul shakes.

When he hears the unmistakable sound of a rib breaking, feels the bone give way under his hands, a drawn-out wail drips from his lips but he doesn’t stop. Knows that broken ribs are insignificant. Don’t matter as long as he can persuade Snake’s heart to pump blood through his veins again. To provide his brain with oxygen.

— _even three minutes without oxygen can cause irreparable brain damage_ —

When has Snake stopped breathing? How long was he in the bathroom? Too occupied with himself?

Again. He hasn’t been there. Again.

Not there.

Never there.

No matter how often he dreams the opposite. How often he has saved his father in his sleep. Truth always waits for him the next morning.

He wasn’t there.

Breathe twice.

Push thirty times.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

»Oh God … Oh God.«

* * *

**OUT**

This time, waking up feels too much like dying.

A room without colours, all shadows washed out to grey. The air dense and stale like smoke in his lungs. Like parasites slowly eating up time.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

How long he stared into the blue-white abyss, forgotten how to breathe. How long he stood between shadowy figures, drawing him in.

His chest hurts, a thousand bullets between his bones, a worrying crunch in his ears and silent sobbing. A scream somewhere. Something like despair.

For him?

He isn’t supposed to die like this. Owes the world a hero’s death. Owes Otacon. Owes—

Morning light between lashes. Thirty-five. Breathing in numbers, moments, carefully curated. A glance up, a figure too close. Tears perhaps.

Blurred.

Hal?

Hal.

Too close. Too? No, close. Snake’s hand flutters somewhere against Hal’s arm, tries to hold on. No strength, breathing too fast.

»Oh God.«

He feels it against the cold skin at his chest as Hal’s head sags against it. He feels him let go. It sounds like suffocation. 

The tears, the sobbing.

It sounds like drowning.

The nerd breaks apart and Snake is too weak to hold him together, his fingers twitching against his leg.

»Don’t worry,« he wants to say. »I’m here.« But his lips taste of dust and water and death.

They taste of Hal, somehow. For the second time. Of salt and rain.

He breathes against the weight on his chest and mourns it when it’s gone. When Hal lifts his head.

His hand lies somewhere over Snake’s heart, guarding every breath, and there are questions in Snake’s head he cannot answer.

He opens his eyes, as well as he can. Searches for his partner.

Voice rough, just two more breaths: »I’ll … stay.«

Hal swallows, the tears still spilling but eventually the nerd nods, determination in every line of his face.

»Damn right you will. You’re not going to get out of this, you know? You’re in it for the long haul«

Snake nods.

»I’m in.«

**Author's Note:**

> Jo graciously gave me permission to use a part of our old (epic) role-play to translate and rework for [thelonebamf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf)'s zine "Metal Gear Solid: The Lost Years," which meant bringing this whole angstfest down to roughly 5k. I actually think it helped this to feel even more intense and ended up working really well with the structure that quickly revealed itself with the title and the sub sections, so I'm very happy with how it came out. I had initially planned to flesh it out again for posting here but in the end, nothing much was added back in.
> 
> The zine came out in 2019 but for various reasons, it took a while before I could post it here but since I and my former MGS pals have all mostly moved on from this fandom, I didn't mind. 
> 
> If you've read this far, I hope you've enjoyed the story (as much as all that angst allows for that) and kudos and comments are, of course, greatly appreciated.


End file.
